


Play Time

by Nixx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Slight Spoiler for 10x03, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nixx/pseuds/Nixx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam calls in a favour with an expert. But what happens when Crowley's newly appointed right hand man, Dean decides he does not want to co-operate?  Who will come out on top in this game of cat and mouse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Time

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. Please let me know if the story is worth continuing :D Thank you.

Research has always been my strongest suit whether it was folk and mythological lore or translating old runic. I enjoyed the pursuit for knowledge, much to the dismay of my friends who never seemed to understand my desire to explore the unknown. Having my nose buried in books is advantageous, I need not worry about killing the monster of the day because there were other hunters more than willing to send these bastards back to where they came from. However do not be fooled I know exactly how to kill a shape shifter, werewolf and demon. I just prefer not to get my hands dirty. The ability to study a creature so meticulously makes me a sought after woman; hunters would often call in dire need of information, making me a hunting Wikipedia of sorts. Ironically the callers were usually older hunters, Bobby included; who weren't used to the nuances of modern technology. So imagine my surprise when the infamous Sam Winchester called in the hopes of tracking a particular demon, well I could hardly say no... Now could I? 

"Here you go," I said placing the steaming mug of coffee in front of the tiresome hunter. Since my arrival at the bunker, Sam and I had fallen into a somewhat of a routine , he would spend majority of his time sifting through cases, delegating smaller hunts to other hunters whilst I examined every piece of lore pertaining to demons.

"Hey (y/n) what does this say?" I glanced over at the thick leather bound book. The letters upside down were indecipherable.

"Give it here" I gestured as Sam shuffled closer to me. It was a text written by 10th century monks.

"Well this is written in Old English so if memory serves correctly... That's a 'thorn' which means _**blódþigen**_ " I pronounce the word with a heavy Germanic accent. I scan the text thoroughly once more.

"Yep , tasting of blood" Sam knew this was the only way to cure Dean. This left only one problem to solve how to find the AWOL Winchester. Back to the books I guess.

Tracking Dean Winchester proved to be a more difficult task than looking for a needle in a haystack. When I discovered a lead of any kind, Sam and I were always a few days too late or looking in the wrong place. Frustration seeped through the desperate man and I found myself becoming more intrigued with this mysterious Winchester. I spent hours viewing various pieces of footage only to get a glimpse of him under a hood or a baseball cap, growing curiouser each time. The summoning rituals were not working, the demons refused to appear and Sam in utter despair decided to take a huge risk...

So right now the demon Dean Winchester is locked in the basement of the Bunker tied to a chair placed over a devil's trap. He is surprisingly quiet, other than the occasional growl when Sam injects him with the sanctified blood. I stood amongst the shadows of the large door watching the man I spent the last few months trailing. I observed his countenance, his moss green iris alternating with the deepest of black. The muscles on his face taut, his pink lips pinched into a thin line. His cuffed hands lay precariously on his knees in an attempt to feign disinterest but his tensed broad shoulders gave him away. I skimmed a glance over his long legs and reached my previous conclusion that this man was incredibly handsome. The aesthetic beauty was marred however when he finally opened his mouth. The tone was gruff, a gritty quality which was surprisingly arousing despite his choice of words.

"Damn it, Sammy! You're fucking pathetic. I spent my whole life saving your ass..." Dean was unable to continue as Sam forced yet another vial of blood into Dean's upper arm. Sam dropped the syringe and promptly exited the chilly room; leaving Dean screaming and writhing in pain. I continued to watch fascinated by this specimen. Surely, this is not the brother who Sam spent hours painting and praising as the unsung hero of their grand narrative. But somehow through the sweat and bruises he managed to captivate my mind, the sheer magnitude of confidence he possessed despite being chained like an animal was phenomenal.

"(Y/n) (l/n). Why don't you come in to have a closer look?" A gravelly tone shook me out of my reverie and for first time I realised that Dean Winchester was looking straight at me.


End file.
